


Debriefing

by terma_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-01
Updated: 2002-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:48:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26536069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terma_archivist/pseuds/terma_archivist
Summary: a pre-Escapades PWP by a very sleepy Mockery and Ruric.
Relationships: Alex Krycek/Fox Mulder
Collections: TER/MA





	Debriefing

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [TER/MA](https://fanlore.org/wiki/TER/MA) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the TER/MA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/terma/profile).  
> Usual disclaimers apply—with one addition: this was never meant to happen, but get two exhausted slashers, Chinese food and a morning flight to LA together and something is bound to give... right? Also - Ruric has just thrown a lamp at my head. She says it was an accident- who knows? I might see some of you soon...

  
**Debriefing  
by Mockery and Ruric**

  
Do you know how it started? Of all the innocuous things: a large-scale briefing on some case or other—a room filled to bursting with Agents, and us, arriving late, crammed in at the back. It started with him trying to insinuate himself into the room behind me and close the door behind him without being too obvious or disruptive. It started with us trying not to be noticed—him pushing me into someone's shoulder as he attempted to manoeuvre the door shut and us becoming wedged between that other Agent and a door that lodged firmly between his shoulder blades.

I remember trying desperately not to snigger as whoever it was continued with their briefing. The subject wasn't funny at all—a murder—but the sheer awkwardness of our situation, him pressed tightly against my back, me wedged firmly against the unmoving shoulder of the Agent in front of me, both of us incapable of shifting without someone noticing... it was too funny for words.

It became slightly less than funny when Mr Shoulder Pads in front of me raised his hand to ask a question and pushed me back into Mulder. The door behind Mulder moved us both as it swung slightly and his... uh... well... um... 'Mulder Junior' found a convenient resting place between my buttocks. The rest you can imagine: the heat of the room, our close proximity, the gently shifting door and Mr Shoulder Pads - desperate to be noticed—all conspired to a... uh... well... reaction. I was quite surprised to find that I rather enjoyed having Mulder pressed so tightly against me. I was rather surprised that I liked the see- sawing motion of his cock grinding through our suit trousers, pulsing hard between my buttocks.

I was even more surprised when his hands slowly stole into my trouser pockets. My hands were trapped between wall and Shoulder Pads, and I was unable to do anything other than awkwardly turn my head to look at him over my shoulder. True to form, he was intently listening to the briefing, not even acknowledging my glance, even as his fingers slowly traced the length of my cock through the material of my pockets.

I found myself lolling against him, almost boneless as his hands explored. I bit my lip trying not to gasp as he slowly drew down the zip of my trousers and slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of my briefs and wrapped his fingers around me.

"Shhh, Alex" he said, licking a surreptitious path up my neck and nibbling on the lobe of my ear. "You don't want to attract attention to us."

The hair on the back of my neck rose as his whispered words resounded round a mind gone suddenly blank. The voice of the agent briefing us turned into a sonorous drone, a bee buzzing on a hazy summer day, and I.... I was incapable of distinguishing a single syllable, let alone a word that he spoke.

My attention was focused on the wisp of warm, lightly coffee scented breath against my ear and neck, the gentle yet unrelenting stroking, pressure where there should have been none. I couldn't move away from him, even if I'd wanted to, there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run.

I could feel him smile, as his lips repeatedly traced a path between shoulder and ear, tongue flicking out occasionally to moisten skin in passing, a lick of warm, wet heat. I knew I was stating to blush, could feel the flush rising to stain my cheeks and hoped that anyone who noticed would put it down to the heat of the day and the number of people in the room and not look too closely at us.

Mind you, his expression would have given nothing away. Mr. Butter Wouldn't Melt in His Mouth Mulder. I've always wondered how he can do that. Appear so apparently intent on something when his mind (and hands) are miles away thinking (and doing) something completely different.

His fingers teased and stroked and I struggled not to moan as they slowly encircled me. Fortunately, in the press of bodies in the room no- one noticed when I leaned a little closer to him than necessary, pushing back into him as he continued to stroke me, grinding slowly, almost imperceptibly against his hardness and warmth. I couldn't help smiling slightly as I felt a breathy little exhalation, knowing that I'd finally got to him too, at last.

I clenched my buttocks and pushed back against him, hard. He groaned rather loudly and Mr Shoulder Pads looked over his shoulder at us, startled. I smiled innocently and shrugged. Mulder blushed furiously and squeezed me rather too hard—I gurgled at Shoulder Pads and he shook his head in bemusement, turned back to the presentation. I moved my head back sharply and grinned as Mulder's head connected with the door.

"Bastard," he whispered savagely. He used his chin to lever us a bit apart as his hands disappeared from my body and began to fumble in the brief space between us.

"What are you doing?" I whispered back at him.

He grinned. "Didn't I ever tell you I was a Boy Scout?" he asked.

I frowned in puzzlement and then gasped as I heard the unmistakable snick of a switchblade. "What the fuck are you doing Mulder?"

Shoulder Pads shushed us irritably without looking back and I shivered as Mulder bit my shoulder. "Don't move a muscle," he grinned. 

I tensed involuntarily as I felt the knife blade encounter the seam of my trousers. "Mulder," I hissed furiously, "don't you dare-" It was too late: I felt the material snag and then part.

"Oops," he said.

I was caught, not able to decide which emotion to go with, a helpless and irrepressible need to giggle (Mulder displaying a sudden exhibitionist streak I _never_ knew existed, until now; I filed that little snippet away for future use) or the desire to be outraged. What I managed to do was utter a strangled sound, half choked giggle, half yelp of exasperation, which attracted Shoulder Pads attention again.

Thank god for the dress codes of the FBI! 

Despite the heat in the room, I was at least wearing a jacket which helped to hide what Mulder was up to. Boy Scout indeed. I wasn't going to forgive him easily though, not for this. This was my best suit. Oh - not expensive next to the kind of clothes Mr Armani wears but _I_ was fond of it. It was comfortable and fit me like a second skin. It was used to my body being in it. Now bits of my body were almost noticeably hanging out of it.

Mulder was peering over my shoulder again, ostensibly listening to the briefing.

"You owe me a new suit," I hissed trying for anger and failing miserably.

"Alex, Alex," words practically breathed into my ear, hardly spoken aloud. "Weren't you always telling me I should develop my sense of adventure."

"Not like this!" I squeaked.

The blade flickered again and my briefs now featured a rather large gash in their seat. He smiled wickedly, and my heart fluttered as I heard him slowly unzip his fly. He couldn't possibly mean to... not here... not in public... not in _this_ public, surely! He grinned again. Oh God—he did.

"I don't like you wearing underwear, Alex" he whispered.

I looked back at him in disbelief. "I'll be sure to remember that," I said, sarcastic.

He smiled again. These smiles were beginning to severely distress me in a pleasantly shivery kind of way. "See that you do."

His fingers returned to my open fly and closed once more around my straining cock. They squeezed gently and his thumb slid gently over the sensitive head, gathering up the precum and smearing it over my sensitive flesh. 

I felt my mouth drop open and my eyes widen as my knees trembled. If we were not wedged in tight, I might have fallen; as it was, I felt that his cock between my buttocks and his hand around my cock were all that were keeping me upright.

"I'm gonna need you to spit in my hand," he said.

"Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no!"

The look over my shoulder at him was a fatal mistake. I knew instantly that I would contrive some way to spit into his hand, hating myself even as I did so. He grinned again—that same grin! God he's good.

"Ready?" he whispered.

What else could I do?

No way out unless I was willing to make one hell of a scene, and ruin _two_ careers into the bargain. Oh—I'd have loved to wipe that self satisfied smile off his face, but it wasn't going to happen. Not today at least. Wonder if he knows that I'm keeping a mental count of all these little point scoring games. Revenge can be sweet Mulder, especially when it's planned and executed with precision.

Lets face it—once we got to that stage there was no way I was getting out of there easily. I still wasn't sure that he really intended to go through with it. It's so unlike him, he's usually so locked down and tied up tight. No chink in the mental and emotional armour. No chance to see the real person beneath the 'Spooky' nickname. 

I half thought we were engaged in a game of bluff and double bluff and I'll be damned if I'll ever back down before him. 

So I called him. 

Let's see your cards Mulder. Just how far are you willing to take this game?

I sniffed, hitched a breath and sneezed into his hand. Well to everyone else in the room it looked like I sneezed, but we both knew differently. It seemed like half the people there turned to look, curiosity and disdain mirrored on the faces that turned towards us.

"Excuse me," I said loudly, "sorry..."

"Are you quite finished, Agent Krycek?" Skinner's voice echoed through the still room.

"Ah... yes, Si-ARGH!" I clamped my jaw tightly as Mulder did his best stoic puppeteer look behind me. I blushed furiously, practically on tiptoe and speared on Mulder's finger. "Sorry sir, cramp," I managed.

Skinner sighed heavily. "Where were we?"

The briefing Agent returned to his sonorous drone as I gradually sank back down, relaxing somewhat as Mulder gently circled his finger.

"Sorry about that," he muttered. I could feel his grin without even having to look at him—I hated him sometimes. "Relax, Alex," he breathed. I felt him shift slightly behind me, using the swing of the door to position himself more advantageously. 

Shit... he wasn't bluffing at all.

I closed my eyes as I felt him remove his finger and press close to me. "Breathe," he whispered. "That's it, baby. Ready? And..."

Breathe—hell that was easy enough for him to say...... just breathe. It's not that easy Mulder, not when your lungs are spasming..... body trembling caught between panic and pleasure.

"Relax..." that soft, hateful, adorable whisper again.

His hands slid around my hips, pulling me back against him, and then it was too late for anything. Too late to breathe, too late to scream, too late to do anything but comply with what he wanted. 

His left hand slid from my hip, resting on my belly pulling me close to him, so close, and with one long, hot, hard slide it was too late.....

I fought not to make a sound, body trapped between the rhythmic, slow, thrusting movement of his hips and his hand, fingers curling against my belly sliding lower, wrapping around me. Heat around and within me, I sank my teeth into my lower lip, not gonna give him the satisfaction of uttering a sound.

That was obviously not good enough for him. He circled his hips wickedly and my forehead slammed roughly into Shoulder Pads'...uh... shoulder pad. Irritably, Shoulder Pads looked back over his shoulder again, and I looked up at him, glazed and unfocused, through hair that had fallen across my eyes. I felt a bead of sweat roll down my nose and heard myself, ablaze, pant roughly at him, incapable of saying anything and incoherent in shuddering heat and pleasure.

From a great distance away I heard Shoulder Pads say "Agent Krycek, are you okay?"

I heard myself panting, felt myself shudder, felt myself push back further onto Mulder. I opened my mouth to say something to Shoulder Pads, but suddenly thought better of it—even in the depths of my passion, I could be devious...

Mulder pushed deep within me and I reared up, slapping the back of my head against Mulder's forehead. I heard myself gasp out loud as Mulder caught my prostate and came violently within me. I felt myself explode into his hands and couldn't help but half-snigger hysterically at his frantic attempt to catch my cum in the rags of my briefs.

"Ungh..." I managed, before allowing my eyelids to flutter theatrically and my body to slump and begin to fall. Let Mulder explain _this_!

"I've got him!" Mulder said loudly, surreptitiously zipping me up and then catching me around the waist.

Skinner's voice barked across the room. "What's going on back there?"

Shoulder Pads responded. "Agent Krycek seems to be having some kind of fit, sir!"

"It's okay, sir" Mulder said. "It's this flu, sir—it seems to have... come over him... rather suddenly."

"Get him out of here, Agent Mulder," Skinner barked.

I felt Mulder grin against the back of my neck, still buried within me. "Okay, you little shit," he muttered. "How're we gonna manage this?"

I grinned, still pretending to have fainted and cast a sly glance over my shoulder at him.

But I'd underestimated my erstwhile partner ... he could be devious too. 

Fumbling he reached behind him, sliding us both sideways as he searched desperately for the handle. For a moment I knew the game was up. There was no way we were getting out of here ...

I heard him heave a sigh of relief as fumbling fingers found the handle. He slid us both sideways, pulling the door open and he practically fell out of the room into the corridor, dragging me with him as we struggled to stifle hysteria.

Luckily there was no-one else in sight as Mulder stepped backwards finally sliding free of me, hands quickly zipping himself into his oh so perfect Armani suit. Turning round I glanced at him whilst pulling my jacket down. I had to get out of here and find some new pants....

Damn him he didn't even look flustered. Not unless you knew him. But it was all there for me to see, dilated slightly wild eyes, faint flush along the cheekbones. He managed to combine looking ravaged and vulnerable at the same time.

He broke silence first smiling.

"Alex," he pushed me around the corner and backed me straight into a wall. 

No one in sight, and Mulder's body leaned into me, one hand sliding into my hair the other cupping my buttock, breath warm against my face, teasing smile on his lips. Closer and closer... he'd never kissed me before—hell we'd never even got progressive before this! Lips touched mine, gently, questioning; his tongue snaked out to lightly flicker across my lower lip, slowly prised my lips apart and darted into my mouth.

I found myself inhaling him, trying to draw him harder against me. I was a breathing cliché—I braced myself against the wall behind me, wrapped a leg around his thigh while the other trembled with tension and nerves. I gripped his tie, pulling him closer still and my other hand rested on his chest. My heart was in my throat, and he seemed to be doing his best to discover it with his tongue. _God_ he was good. Oh my good _GOD_ he was good.

He pulled away and grinned at me. That grin again. I shuddered in apprehension and desire.

"What?" I asked.

"You're gonna need to get some new pants, Alex." He snickered.

I flushed and then looked up at him through my hair coquettishly. "Well... you'll just have to take me shopping then, won't you... Foxy."

THE END  
(Thank God) 

* * *

Debriefing  
a pre-Escapades PWP by a very sleepy Mockery and Ruric.  
Usual disclaimers apply—with one addition: this was never meant to happen, but get two exhausted slashers, Chinese food and a morning flight to LA together and something is bound to give... right? Also - Ruric has just thrown a lamp at my head. She _says_ it was an accident- who knows? I might see some of you soon...  
Feedback: [email removed]   
---


End file.
